


Vengeance by the Hand, Hope by the Heart

by wordsmithraven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/F, Gen, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Thorkyrie (if you squint), Romance, Spoilers, wlw writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 13:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsmithraven/pseuds/wordsmithraven
Summary: After the events of Thor: Ragnarok, Valkyrie struggles with the memories of her past and the feelings she had kept in the dark for so long.





	Vengeance by the Hand, Hope by the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I took a step away from NaNoWriMo to write this after seeing Thor: Ragnarok yesterday. I had a great time and loved pretty much 95% of it with a few little things I though could've been better/differently. Best Thor movie of the bunch tho, for sure.
> 
> Anyway, I adored Valkyrie, as I knew I would. Of course, when I love a character so much, I have to write for them. So here we are.
> 
> Here's a little oneshot pulling from the fact that Tessa Thompson has outright stated that not only is Brunnhilde in the MCU bisexual as she is in the comics but that the woman in the flashback scene of the movie was her lover. You know the one I'm talking about.
> 
> Major spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok. Read with caution.

 

 

 

* * *

 “Why do you glare at him so?”

Brunnhilde paused in passing an oiled cloth over the blade of her Dragonfang. She looked to the side and found Loki sitting, watching her...watching her watch Thor.

Her cheeks heated. She darted her eyes around the large cargo bay of the spaceship they now called home but did not see anyone else looking at her. Only Loki had noticed.

Brunnhilde pursed her lips, barely holding back a sneer.

“Leave,” she said, ignoring his question and looking down to the work she had only been half paying attention to in the first place.

She slowly glided the scrap of flannel along the sword’s fuller, filling the space between Loki and herself with the soft sound. The bone metal shone in the twilight of the cargo bay. A sword forged from the skeleton of the great interspatial dragon Fáfnir, slain by the first valkyrie and her husband some fifteen thousand years before. Every part of valkyrior battle gear was made from the husk of that beast. The dragon’s skin, the leather for their armor. His bones, the metal for their weapons. His sinew, the strings on their bows.

Dragonfang’s luster had never dulled in all the centuries she’d wielded it and its edge was always sharp no matter what she truck it against. She had missed holding it.

“My brother,” Loki continued, as if she had not dismissed him from her presence. “You look at him as if you would sooner punch him than serve him. Yet were this true, you would not have helped him. It is...curious.”

Brunnhilde continued to ignore the prince. She had not survived a millennia wandering the cosmos and living on Sakaar without learning to withstand the annoying buzzing of an unwanted companion. Though Loki had more than once proven to test that resolve, as he was doing at that very moment.

“We have been stuck on this forsaken junkheap for weeks now and I still can’t quite figure it out.”

From the corner of her eye, Brunnhilde saw Loki lean back on his elbow, arm propped on the storage container behind him. He was looking where she had been looking before.

Thor was standing at the front of the cargo bay, hunched over a datapad with Lady Fulla as they worked out the ship’s rations for the rest of their journey to Earth. Fulla had been a young handmaiden of Frigga’s when Brunnhilde had been at the palace last but now the woman was full grown. Though it had only been a thousand years for Brunnhilde on Sakaar, three of the same had passed on the Shining Realm. So many new faces and so few that Brunnhilde recognized. Much had changed.

Among the new faces had been Loki and Thor. Princes of a kingdom Brunnhilde had no faith in anymore. At least she had thought so for such a long time. It had taken her aback to find that they existed at all. Although she should have known the Allfather would keep trying to continue his line despite his utter failure the first time. Wanting to build an empire was deep in his heart, after all.

“One would think after fighting so valiantly by his side, you would behave differently but here you sit shooting daggers from your eyes at him.”

“When will you stop talking?”

He grinned. “When I have no more questions.”

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes. She had known the sons of Odin less than three months and she was already sick of both of them. She glared at Loki. _That one most of all_ , she thought.

Brunnhilde wondered why she had been cursed with the company of Odin’s children so often in her life. First Hela, now these two. Not one good thing had come from associating with the first one and though she had fooled herself momentarily into thinking this next set might be a tad better, she was quickly coming to rethink that assumption. Loki could not stop picking at everyone around him, trying to dissect them. It was like some kind of dark compulsion. He had steadily been wearing her patience--already extremely short--thin with his holier than thou attitude and general need for chaos. Thor was equally as arrogant though in a different way and his boyish admiration was growing more irritating than it was flattering the longer she stayed sober. One thing she had not missed during her exile from Asgard was the company of royals. She had forgotten how tedious they were.

She wasn’t the only one tired of the Odinsons. Brunnhilde looked back to Thor at the thought. The two brothers had recently had some kind of spat. No one outside of Heimdall knew the particulars as he had been the one to break the two apart eventually but it had been a vibrant one. The only reason it had not devolved into a full brawl was because of the guardian’s words. Whatever he had said to them had chastised them enough that they had ceased the most destructive part of their squabbling and were both now only sulking loudly at each other.

It was a good thing Heimdall had stepped in. The ensuing fight might have wrecked the ship they were currently trapped on. While Asgardians could naturally withstand the vacuum of space for some periods of time, extended exposure would eventually kill even them. The ship was full of refugees, young and old. Many would not survive such a thing. The two foolish siblings at least understood how bad an idea that would have been.

“What _did_ make you follow him originally, I wonder?” Loki continued unwilling to back down from her growing ire. “You said it was revenge but I can’t help but wonder if it was more. Was it honor? Redemption? The promise of more booze…?”

Brunnhilde gritted her teeth and rubbed furiously at her sword. Her hand slipped and she hissed as a thin slice of flesh opened on the bottom of her palm. She raised her cut hand to her mouth to catch the bleeding.

Loki leaned forward, mouth curling in glee.

“Or perhaps it was something else. Something buried in that mind of yours, nestled in the memory we shared.”

The sword in her hand was at his throat before she could blink. The sharp tip pressed lightly at the skin of Loki’s throat.

“We shared nothing. I owe you _nothing_. One more word from your mouth on this and I will cut your tongue from it,” she hissed.

“As you say,” Loki acquiesced. His grin never faltered though his hands were raised in surrender.

Brunnhilde glared at him longer. She could let him flap his lips for days about so much but she would not stand for him to touch that. Not after he had ripped the memory from the recesses of her mind. She had buried it so deep for so long for a reason. How dare he try to bring it to the surface? She would kill him for it, Thor’s anger be damned.

“If you kill him, you’ll have to mop up the blood yourself,” said a cheerful voice beside her.

She swiveled her head slightly, only enough to see Thor standing next to her yet keep Loki within her field of vision. Behind Thor stood Lady Fulla patiently waiting with her wrists crossed over her stomach and holding the datapad.

“I only mention it because Fálki just yesterday cleaned this area and he would be cross if he returned from his scavenging mission to find all his hard work undone.”

Thor was grinning as he spoke, unconcerned with the tense atmosphere he’d stepped into. Brunnhilde narrowed her eyes. That damned smile was exactly what she had been glaring at before. It was even more irritating close up.

“No concern for the life of your brother, _brother_?” drawled Loki.

Thor did not stop looking at her though he was speaking to Loki. “I have no doubt that whatever lead to this moment, you well deserve our lady’s sword at your throat.”

The sword was steady in Brunnhilde’s hand, having not moved one bit at Thor’s words. Anger was still lingering in her blood, dragging through her veins like a sweet honey. The memory of all her sisters dying still fresh on her mind after Loki’s prying comments.

Thor waved a hand at the ship’s floor. “You should at least lay out a tarp first, don’t you think? Much tidier. Aunt Fulla, we have a tarp on board, don’t we?”

Lady Fulla, seemingly without an ounce of irony, lifted the datapad in her hand and honestly searched her inventory before saying, “We have eleven medium sized tarps, eight small tarps, and three large tarps available, your majesty.”

“Et tu, Auntie?”

Lady Fulla sniffed gently and lowered her datapad. Brunnhilde rolled her eyes at their antics and removed her sword.

“He’ll live,” she said drily and wiped the newly dripping blood, hers and Loki’s, from Dragonfang’s blade.

She would not kill Loki that day. Not for being his usual callous self, though she really wanted to skewer him for it. Thor had spoken lightly but there had been a clear warning in his eyes...or eye. She had known the two for such a short time, and watched them bicker and fight for most of it. Yet it was clear to her how much Loki was a weak spot for Thor, a vulnerability. Brunnhilde could see that though he was wise to Loki’s tricks, he would love the man no matter what Loki did. Unto the end of time or perhaps even the end of Thor himself.

The valkyrie in her, the one sworn to protect those to whom she had given her allegiance, thought that precarious and dangerous familial bond needed watching lest Thor fall to his own doom. The scrapper in her, the one who decade after decade coldly fed others to the Grandmaster’s arena, thought the godking might just deserve the betrayal.

_‘Why do you fight, Hillie?’_

Brunnhilde shut her eyes briefly. That voice bouncing around her mind, making her heart freeze in her chest.

Thor laughed his boisterous laugh and distracted her from stray thoughts. He patted her shoulder companionably. His grip was firm.

“My thanks. I would not complain if you wanted to usher Loki into his next life but sadly we need him to keep the ship running,” Thor said, attention now on Loki. He was referencing Loki’s not insignificant scientific and engineering knowledge, far more advanced than most of the others on the ship.

Loki grinned sharply. “Already regretting my presence on this little adventure to your favorite planet? How fickle you are.”

“It is not fickleness, Loki. I only regret your company when you act as you have these several days,” shot back Thor.

Both Odinsons were focused on each other, seemingly to the exclusion of Brunnhilde and Lady Fulla. Their tones were conversational still but she could feel the tension starting to build again as an edge crept into their barbs. Brunnhilde might have commented on it but she was too busy looking down at where Thor had left his hand on her shoulder. He had seemed to have forgotten it was there while he spoke to his brother.

It was not so much that it was an overly friendly touch, per se. After all, they had bled and been bled on a battlefield together. Lived for weeks in close proximity to each other. Gone on scouting missions and shared meals with each other in the time since the start of the diaspora. Such a small intimacy was not unusual among warriors who have lived like that.

They had brushed against each other before while exchanging weapons or tankards or such. They had grabbed each other many times when they had initially fought and again later while sparring to keep in shape. But this was the first time he had ever touched her like this. The first time in many centuries that she had felt another Asgardian warrior embrace her as a real friend. It reminded her of things...of people she would rather not think of just yet. It seemed that everything recently would do so.

She could not feel his hand directly against her skin because of her panoply but it did not matter. His grip burned through her pauldron anyway. There was an energy to Thor, a faint buzzing of electricity that had always hovered around him. Brunnhilde had only ever felt the like with two other people in her long life: from Odin, a lord of the storm himself, and from Róta, whose voice haunted her dreams. It seemed her life was cursed with storm gods as equally as Odinsbarn. Wonderful.

Her hand itched for a bottle but there was none on the ship. Not even a flask hidden beneath a seat in the cockpit or cooking wine in the galley. Their brief scouting missions to semi-habitable planets and asteroids along the ship’s trajectory had only yielded water, produce, and meat supplies to get them to their destination. It had been a long time since she’d been so sober. She hated every minute of it.

“Do I have to call Heimdall?” asked Lady Fulla to head off the oncoming conflict.

Both men stopped dead in their places. Then Loki rose to his feet, pulling at his leather armor fastidiously. Thor shuffled a little and, with a startled glance down, finally removed his hand from her shoulder. The galvanic humming decreased exponentially.

Thor cleared his throat and said, “That is not necessary, my lady.”

Loki sniffed loudly, swept his eyes over the lot of them, and departed without a word.

“Well...that went as well as it could, I guess,” Thor said to her after his brother left.

She curled a lip. “His mouth is getting to be a bit more than I bargained for, your majesty. How you managed to stand him for a thousand years will forever remain a mystery to me.”

Thor rocked on his heels. “Yes, he’s always been a moody one. You get used to it eventually.”

Brunnhilde had doubts about that and she let her face show it.

Thor chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. “There is a learning curve, I guess.”

“You don’t say.”

Thor leaned forward towards her. “What were you two fighting about anyway?”

Brunnhilde reached to the side to grab her sword’s sheath.

“Nothing that need concern you, your majesty.”

“It _seemed_ concerning,” pressed Thor.

“And yet...it’s still none of your business,” she replied. She shoved her cleaned sword into its sheath with a snap, eyes hard on Thor's face. “You might be my liege, for _now_ , but do not think that I owe you anything more. I told you once not to get familiar. That hasn’t changed.”

He raised his hands in an echo of his brother minutes before. “Okay. Point taken.”

Brunnhilde stood, already finished with the entire exchange. “If that’s all…”

There was a moment while Thor contemplated her, sky blue eye boring right through her. There had always been something arresting about Thor’s gaze. It was equal parts challenging and vulnerable and knowing. Loki might have stripped her down to her core with his magic but Thor could do so with just a look. Brunnhilde had never taken well to feeling so exposed, even before her battle with Hela many centuries before.

“I suppose it is,” he said dejectedly.

Brunnhilde ignored the sadness in his voice and promptly strode away. She could feel that weighty gaze on her back with every step. She did not turn to look and simply pushed through the small groups of people, intent on leaving the room though she had no idea of her destination. She just wanted to be somewhere alone. Such a simple want but so hard to fulfill with the whole of Asgardian society on board.

She eventually found herself entering the flight deck. They were keeping station near the moon of a planet while they waited for an away mission to find materials for their travels. Normally Brunnhilde herself would be on such a mission but she had gone out the week before and Thor insisted on a duty rotation with the einherjar to prevent restlessness in the soldiers. With the ship at a standstill, she was hoping the flight deck would be empty.

Unfortunately, even here she could not be alone. Heimdall sat at the ship’s controls. His great sword, Hofund, was leaning on a panel next to him and his bright eyes scanned the star-dotted dark before them, seeing things no other pilot could.

She hesitated in the entryway, her mind already cycling through other potential locations on the ship.

“Sit, Brunnhilde. I will not disturb you and you will not disturb me,” rumbled out Heimdall.

She thought hard about turning the guardian down but eventually capitulated. After all, it wasn’t like she could go somewhere in the universe where Heimdall could not see her, though the illusion of it might be nice.

She dropped into one of the co-pilot seats, careful to keep from jostling the controls. Their little ark was actually a deep space freighter made for trade between systems and it normally required at least three people to navigate her. Heimdall had managed on his own. The Grandmaster had had the ship repaired three centuries back after it had fallen through the Devil’s Anus. Brunnhilde had never really understood why the man had bothered with it. He’d never have let anyone take it beyond his little realm. For the size, maybe. Just to say he owned the massive thing as he owned all things, he liked to remind.

“Did you see me there? On Sakaar?” she asked suddenly. The words were out of her mouth before she even knew she wanted to say them. She glanced tentatively at Heimdall next to her but the other aesir did not turn from his vigil.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Brunnhilde looked down at her hands still gripping tight to her sheathed sword.

Heimdall was one of the few aesir who had known her before. He’d known her all her life. He’d known her father Buðli before he had died and later her fiance Sigmund before he had perished too. Even when she had been a child he’d already been an adult. He was only a few millennia younger than Odin himself had been though he did not look it.

Shame swept through her. It wasn’t that she had not known that Heimdall would have been able to see her there. All in Asgard and the other higher realms knew his panoptic scrutiny was always there. But when he was out of _her_ sight, it had been easy to forget. No longer.

The silence stretched between them. Keeping to his word, he spoke not once. He did not seem at all bothered to go about his duties with her by his side. It was Brunnhilde who was having difficulties.

“How is Fálki’s scouting party?” she asked. She had never been prone to chit-chat but the silence was killing her.

“They will return within the hour,” he answered.

“How did it go?” she continued, unable to shut up for some reason so deciding to barrel forward.

“They have had great success. We will be provisioned for quite a while before we have need to drop from FTL again.”

Silence again and her agitation returned.

Before she could blurt out anything else, Heimdall spoke first, knowing exactly the source of her uncomfortable babbling.

“I do not judge those I see, only see them,” he said.

Brunnhilde shook her head. “But you have opinions.”

“I do.”

Her lips pressed together. Her hands were shaking and she tightened one into a fist. She needed a drink, damn the Norns.

Heimdall sighed and finally turned away from the viewing window to face her.

“There is nothing for me to say that you have not already thought a thousand times before. I have watched you castigate yourself with drink for many decades, Brunnhilde. You know what deeds you have done and how their weft have shaped the tapestry of the cosmos. Your actions on Sakaar are your own.”

“They were the actions of a coward,” she said angrily.

“As many have committed before you and many will commit after you.”

She stared at him incredulously. “How can you say that? I have broken every vow I have taken.”

Heimdall’s golden eyes, so bright against his dark skin, scanned over her face once before he turned away. “As I said, until my kingdom or my honor demands it I do not judge, I only see.”

Brunnhilde stared for a moment longer before snorting. “You’re the first, then.”

“Am I?” Heimdall drawled. He pressed a button on the control panel in front of him almost innocently.

_‘Our hearts are one, Hillie. I know you better than you know yourself.’_

Brunnhilde blinked rapidly, taken off guard once again. She leaned back in her chair and turned her head away from Heimdall, no longer inviting conversation. The other aesir seemed content to follow her lead so she closed her eyes tight and let his tinkering with the ship’s controls fade into the background.

 _Her_ voice was back. Brunnhilde had not thought of Róta so much in many years. The memories had slowly destroyed her more completely than any wound she had ever endured in battle. Even Sigmund’s death had not ruined her so. The drinking helped some but her Asgardian metabolism assured such succor did not last for long. So she found harder liquor and even harder work until the years blurred together and those days had been buried underneath more recent horrors.

Oh, but now Brunnhilde remembered everything. She couldn’t turn it off after seeing Hela again, facing the goddess on the field as hundreds died around her once more. Brunnhilde remembered the last morning she had spent with Róta. The last meal, the last caress, the last smile...and worst of all, the last second as her lover gave her life to save her.

It took Brunnhilde a moment to realize she was no longer remembering but was fully asleep. The moment she did understand that, she was frozen in her own body, locked into recommitting the actions she had taken that fateful morning thousands of years before.

***

“Are you ready to get up, yet?” Róta asked, leaning over her as Brunnhilde squinted up at the woman. Róta was nearly fully dressed in her dragon leather armor. Her flaxen hair already in her preferred double braids. She’d always been an early riser, damn her.

Róta tugged at Brunnhilde’s arm but when she let go the appendage flopped back down onto the bed. Róta growled loudly.

“Why the Allfather saw fit to make such a sleepyhead our commander, I will never understand. If I weren’t here, you wouldn’t even show up for drills, would you?”

It was still dark out, though Brunnhilde knew it was already morning. The day-night cycle on Asgard had not turned yet. Brunnhilde was lying nestled under a heap of furs, naked as the day she had been born. She groaned and stretched her legs out until a few of her joints popped satisfyingly. Then she curled her arms back around her pillow and promptly closed her eyes again.

“Up,” yelled Róta and smacked Brunnhilde on the ass. Brunnhilde gasped and raised her head up.

“Don’t make me call you into the hólmganga. I am your leader, if you will remember.”

“You want to disgrace yourself in a duel before all the court just before a great battle? Be my guest,” the other woman said cheekily.

Brunnhilde laughed, “You think you would win? Keep dreaming. You would be níðingr before the first bell struck.”

Róta grinned and leapt on top of Brunnhilde’s back.

“Only one way to find out, really,” she teased.

Brunnhilde’s eyes widened.

“No.”

“ _Yes_.”

Before Brunnhilde could find a way to extricate herself from her covers, Róta’s fingers wear underneath them and playing along her sides. Brunnhilde screamed at the tickling, flipping back and forth to try to unseat the other valkyrie. But Róta rode the wave as expertly as she did in battle and did not let up her gentle torture, knowing how sensitive her commander was to such play. Brunnhilde was a mess of shaking laughter when Róta was finally finished.

Róta flopped onto the bed beside Brunnhilde, out of breath almost as much. When Brunnhilde had finally calmed down enough, she looked to the side to see the other woman smiling widely at the high ceiling of their shared chambers in the Valkyrior barracks in Sessrúmnir.

Róta had moved in with her permanently several decades before. It was against regulation since they had not yet married but no one had complained. Those who might want to, like the rule abiding Týr, held their tongue when in Brunnhilde’s presence. The only people who could dare censor the leader of the Valkyrior were the king and queen, and neither Odin nor Frigga cared one bit. Róta and Brunnhilde were set to marry soon anyway so it did not matter what an old stick in the mud traditionalist thought of the arrangement.

Brunnhilde ran her eyes along Róta’s face slowly. She was flushed from her excitement, her pearl cheeks tinged a charming red. Brunnhilde turned on her side and leaned up on her elbow so she could look down on her lover. She reached out and lightly brushed a single, brown finger over Róta’s nose, strong and straight with a wide base. Her wandering finger fell to the other woman’s bottom lip, pulling gently at the soft skin. Róta watched her carefully, still breathless from their rolling. Or maybe from something else.

Brunnhilde leaned down and pressed her mouth to Róta’s. She pulled the blonde’s bottom lip into her mouth. Róta sighed and opened beautifully to her. She melted as easily to Brunnhilde as she had the first time Brunnhilde had kissed her nearly a century before.

Kissing Róta was like stepping into a cool shower of water on a hot day. Róta was a storm goddess like their liege, though her hegemony was over the cold sleet of an early winter more than any other type of storm. An energy flowed beneath her skin, perhaps not as powerful as some other weather gods but ever present. Brunnhilde could feel the spark of Róta’s magic rolling over her tongue as she pressed it against Róta’s.

Brunnhilde herself was a goddess of battle and pure might. Her magic was entirely within her and not knowable to others unless they were a skilled seiðrmaðr or seiðkona. Or until she knocked someone on their ass with her fist. It was heady the way she could share in Róta’s magic like this.

By the time they finished their kiss, Brunnhilde was laying overtop the taller woman. The woman’s armor dug a little painfully into her skin but Róta’s hands gripping tight to her back and waist made the hurt worth it. Róta made many things worth it.

Brunnhilde pulled back from her fiance. She ran her hand along Róta’s cheek and brushed a stray strand of hair back over where the rest was pulled into her plaits. Róta’s blue eyes were unfocused and she licked at her own lips slowly as if she wanted to still taste Brunnhilde.

Brunnhilde smiled and said softly, “I should get dressed.”

Róta raised her hand to slide it along Brunnhilde’s shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been saying for the last ten minutes.”

Brunnhilde’s smile widened and she rolled off of Róta, energized enough to jump from the bed. She began her morning ablutions and started pulling on her armor.

They were to deploy later that day. Odin had received word from Heimdall that the princess was going to attempt an escape. He was sending in the Valkyrior in attempt to subdue the goddess.

Brunnhilde’s good mood soured. The bloodthirsty Goddess of Death had been out of control for a lot longer than Odin had wanted to admit, though Hela was of his own making so he had only himself to blame. Brunnhilde _absolutely_ blamed him for the debacle their realm was in at present. Still, though her anger was piqued, her loyalty to Asgard remained intact. Even more, it would not do to weaken her own resolve in front of her women, Róta included, just before a battle. The time for blame and recriminations had come and gone. Now they could only clean up the broken pieces. Clean up was why Odin had raised the order of the valkyries up in the first place.

Brunnhilde paused as she fashioned her greaves, mind wandering to the battle ahead. They would have to enter the dimensional door located in Niflheim and do battle on that ephemeral plane, Helheim. While the Valkyrior were magically trained in interdimensional travel as part of their rote studies, it would be a treacherous journey. The land of the dead was a slippery place, full of dark things and ill-tidings.

A pale hand reached out and took Brunnhilde’s last greave. Róta knelt next to her commander and began buckling the dragon hide for her. Brunnhilde watched the top of Róta’s bowed head.

“Are you afraid, Hillie?” Róta finally asked.

“Not a chance, little wind,” she said immediately, though her voice gave her away.

Róta smiled sadly as she looked up.

“You forget who I am, Brunnhilde. I know you. Better than you know yourself, sometimes.”

Brunnhilde looked away. It was true that Róta had become her closest confidant. Brunnhilde told her things she had never dared tell another. Of the pain of losing Sigmund so soon after their engagement. Of the the shaking in her blood soaked hands she would sometimes get after killing in one of Odin’s wars.

“What makes you so afraid this time?” asked Róta and Brunnhilde turned her eyes back to her beloved.

Brunnhilde shrugged. “Hela.”

“We’ve fought her before.”

“Yes, and lost half the einherjar and a third of our sisters for it.”

“If Hela is a threat to the Realms once again, she must be subdued or we will lose all.”

“I know that, Róta, but...what if she has grown more powerful in her little world with all her dead souls surrounding her? I know our liege says that her power comes from Asgard but I wonder if-”

Brunnhilde broke off. Róta remained silent, sensing perhaps that Brunnhilde was not stalled by her fear but merely searching for the correct words.

Brunnhilde shook her head helplessly. “I fear that we will not be enough this time.”

Róta nodded thoughtfully. She raised her hand to cup Brunnhilde’s cheek and pulled up to her knees instead of sitting back on her heels.

“What do you fight for?”

Brunnhilde furrowed her brows. “What?”

“Why do you fight, Hillie?”

Brunnhilde’s confusion continued but she answered as best she could.

“For honor.”

“No,” said Róta.

Brunnhilde licked her lips. “For valor.”

Róta shook her head.

“For glory.”

Róta gave her a look.

Brunnhilde straightened her back. She’d known that was wrong the moment she had stated it. She took her time then. She cast her thoughts back to every battle she had ever fought, the ones lost and the ones won. She thought back to every time she had returned home to Róta alive and safe. Remembered the feeling she had every time.

She met Róta’s eyes knowing the answer and she could see from the smile on Róta’s face that she knew it too. Róta opened her mouth at the same time as Brunnhilde.

“For peace,” they said as one.

“And if it is ‘peace’ we fight for,” Róta continued on her own. “Then it will be a worthy fight as long as you are by my side. No matter the outcome.”

Brunnhilde leaned down to kiss Róta again. The sweetest one and the last one, though neither of them had known it at the time.

***

Brunnhilde was shaken from her dream abruptly. She saw golden hair and white skin and for a moment she thought she saw Róta leaning over just as she had that morning long ago. Then Brunnhilde’s vision cleared and she saw not her beloved but her king instead.

“Brunnhilde, there’s trouble,” he said.

Adrenaline spiked through her and she leaned forward, bracing against the ship’s control panel in front of her. She looked around to find Heimdall still in the pilot’s seat and Loki leaning on a wall behind him. Bruce Banner was rubbing his hands nervously from his place in the doorway.

She looked up at Thor.

“What’s wrong?”

“Heimdall reports that Fálki’s team encountered unexpected hostilities on the surface.”

“Locals?” she asked already standing and buckling her sword to her.

“No,” drawled Loki. “Great beasts native to the jungle climate of the continent they landed on. The fools got turned around and wandered right into a massive nest of the things.”

“They’re overwhelmed,” Thor said while shooting a scolding look at Loki. “We need to give them some back up and hopefully recover as many provisions as possible. Make no mistake, though, our einherjar are the priority.”

Brunnhilde followed Thor and the others as they all strode out of the flight deck, making their way to the secondary shuttle. It wasn’t big enough to hold many supplies so they did not usually take it out for scavenging missions but it would do for a rescue.

Thor continued as they made it to the shuttle. “Loki, you, and I will go down to give them support. Heimdall and Bruce will stay to make sure our people are safe.”

Loki hopped in and began the pre-flight sequences.

Thor turned to her just as she moved to step into the shuttle. “Are you ready?”

Brunnhilde froze, breath caught in her chest. “What?”

Thor looked a little puzzled. “Do you have everything you need? Do you not want any armaments other than Dragonfang, I meant?”

She breathed out, blowing away the memories. She patted her hilt at her hip and replied, “This is all I need.”

Thor hesitated for a second then nodded. He turned and ducked into the shuttle. She shook her head of cobwebs and followed after him. Loki pressed the controls to lower the shuttle doors and the others left the launch bay so that the away team could safely undock into the vacuum.

Later as Brunnhilde tore her sword through the leathery hide of some great lizard-like creature and coated her hands in slick, green blood, she wondered what she was fighting for now.

Loki had asked her why she had followed Thor from Sakaar, throwing her lot in so readily with a fallen prince from a kingdom she had turned her back on. A thousand years ago she would have said “peace” while a month ago she would have said “revenge.” But neither of those felt right anymore.

Thor arced a bolt of lighting from the alien sky and burned through three foes of his own in the distance. Quicker than thought his spear was in the side of another beast before the first three hit the ground.

Brunnhilde saw Fálki and Loki back to back as they struggled to protect the haul of food and water. Sustenance that would last their people for several weeks, at least.

Brunnhilde’s sword blazed as she ran and slid across the ground on her knees, Dragonfang thrust up into the belly of a lizard, spilling its guts onto the soil.

 _For survival, maybe,_ she thought as she slayed her enemies.

 _For hope_ , answered a voice like the wind of a winter storm.


End file.
